"My plan is to mount as many of our warriors as possible. We have six thousand mounted knights now. If we scour the city and all the nearby villages, we may find four thousand horses still capable of running. They need not be war chargers, nor the riders skilled in fighting from horseback. As soon as the bridge is taken, we should drive immediately for Minas Ithil. We can have ten thousand men-at-arms before their gates before the Úlairi know the bridge is assailed. It is but thirty miles. If the infantry keeps up a steady march, they will be but a few hours behind the cavalry."
"But Sire,"said Meneldil. "The defenses at the bridge are strong. It may take us long to overtop them. If it takes but three hours, a messenger will have arrived at Minas Ithil and our advantage will be lost."
"That is so. But I propose to send a party across the River by boat tonight and land them near the southern walls of the city where there are many docks and empty commercial buildings. If they can move stealthily through the city and reach the bridge by daylight, they will be behind the defenders when we attack. Caught between our forces, the orcs will be helpless."
"This is a sound plan, Isildur," said Elrond. "If it can be carried out without discovery, it will be a brilliant stroke. You have planned well."
"I have had twelve years with little else on my mind," said Isildur with a grim smile. "We will not fail now."
"Sire," said Turgon of Ethir Lefnui. "A boon, if you will. Let me lead this boat party. I have spent most of my life on a river in all manner of small boats. And I have a great debt to repay."
"Very well, Turgon. I estimate fifty men will be enough. Choose your men carefully, for in an enterprise of this sort each man's life will depend on the other's."
Amroth rose to his feet. "I too beg leave to go with Turgon. I too know small boats well. And an Elf can move silently where a Man cannot. I would take some bold Lothlórien Elves with me. Deer-stalkers, used to moving stealthily at night."
"What say you, Turgon?" said Isildur. "Would you have Amroth accompany you?"
"It would be an honor, Sire. I welcome you, Lord Amroth."
"Are we all agreed then?" asked Celeborn. "We attack tomorrow, and as Isildur has proposed?"
"Aye!" shouted many voices. "We have suffered their insults and their raids long enough. Let us take the war to their gates for a change."
"It is well," said Isildur. "Long have I waited for this day. Thardun, Ingold, go with your men and round up as many horses and saddles as you can find in Osgiliath. Meneldil, send to all the outlying villages and have every beast capable of trotting brought to the fields near the gates. Halgon, we will need six or eight boats near the southern walls by sundown, the smallest and lightest you can find. Barathor, I hope your yeomen can ride as well as plow with their horses."
"They can learn," laughed Barathor.
"Good. And what of the Galadrim? Most of your host is on foot. Are they familiar with horses?"
"We rode horses before Men came to the West," said Gildor. "The horses are our friends."
"So?" said Isildur. "We shall see. Let us waste no more time in talking. There is much to be done. Tomorrow we go to war!"
Chapter Nine
Minas Ithil
When the last glimmers of the sun had faded behind Mount Mindolluin and Midsummer's Day had ended, a tense group gathered in a warehouse in the southernmost part of the city. Meneldil the Steward was there, and Bortil, the merchant who owned the building. Before them stood a group of Elves and Men dressed in cloaks of black and grey. Their hoods were thrown back, for the warehouse was still warm from the long summer day. Around the walls, before massive wooden racks holding large amphorae of wine, lay a dozen small round boats, stacked like bowls. They were light and crude, made of ox hide stretched over a frame of willow. In the center of the floor was a dark opening leading to a flight of dank and mossy stone steps. Water could be heard lapping gently below. The warehouse extended right out over the River for ease in loading and unloading the boats that came up the River from the vineyards of Emyn Arnen.
"These coracles," said Bortil, "were once used as lighters for offloading the wine before I had the dock built below the warehouse. They are small and not built for speed, but each will hold two men and a half-dozen amphorae. I daresay six men could ride in each if they stay low."
"They will serve well," said Amroth. "In the old days we used craft not unlike them on the Nimrodel Stream at Lothlórien. Two will row, the rest will keep out of sight and lie still."
"But are these stairs safe, Bortil?" asked Turgon. "They would seem to be an entrance into your city. Is it wise to leave them unguarded?"
"The water gate is closed by a portcullis at the outer end, Lord Turgon. In happier times it kept pilferers from sampling my vintages, but it serves to keep out orcs as well. I will raise it when you are ready."
"We are ready now," said Turgon. "My men thirst not for your wine, but for orc blood beneath their blades."
"We shall have enough of that, I fear," said Amroth. He saw the lust for revenge in the eyes of Turgon and his men of Ethir Lefnui. "But let no one make a rash move. Our mission tonight is not to slay orcs, but to elude them. We must be in position at the bridge when the sun again shows her face. Galdor, note the hour. Is the light full gone?"
Galdor, one of Lady Galadriel's boat steerers, peered out a dusty window. "Aye, Lord Amroth. The sun is down. The moon, waxing gibbous, is already high. The night awaits us."
"It would be better to wait until the moon has set," said Amroth, "but I fear we cannot wait so long. We have a great deal of ground to cover before dawn. Let us begin. Turgon, you go first. Strike across the River and seek a secluded place to land. As quiet as ever you can, but be ready. We know not if the orcs keep sentries watching the River this far below the bridge. If you are attacked, raise a shout to warn the rest of us, then return at once. We can't hope to force a landing in these flimsy craft."
The first boat was carried down the steps and set in the muddy water moving sluggishly past. Many hands steadied the coracle as one by one Turgon and five of his men climbed in. Two paddles were handed down.
"Keep your hoods over your faces and your weapons down," said Turgon. "Let no metal show, for it might catch the moonlight. And for Eru's sake don't put your spear through the bottom of the boat."
"Do not let the paddles strike the side of the boat," said Bortil. "They resound like drums."
The men wrapped their weapons in spare cloaks and stowed them carefully, then lay or crouched in the bottom of the boat. The two paddlers nodded. Bortil and some of the Elves put their shoulders to a large windlass and raised the portcullis dripping from the River. Blobs of black mud fell back into the water with soft wet splats.
"Go in good fortune," whispered Bortil, and the paddlers gave a few strong strokes. The bulky little boat bumped against the dock once, then wheeled ponderously out into the current and drifted downstream, out of sight. They all listened for shouts or the twang of bow strings, but there was only the soft lapping of the water on the stones. It was hard to believe that in spite of the silence, the great battle had already begun.
"Quickly now, quickly," Amroth whispered. One by one six other boats were filled and launched. Then he climbed into the last. It was very cramped in the bottom of the boat, and the round bottom meant they were constantly standing on each other's feet. Amroth crouched down with the others. Bortil and his apprentice shoved them away from the stone dock. Then they emerged from the tunnel. The night was bright and clear, too much so for Amroth's liking. The moon was only four days short of the full and stood nearly straight up. Away from the moon's glare, stars glimmered in the darkness. Amroth raised his head enough to peer ahead and saw the other boats like small round shadows on the water. They lay in a long curve as the current swept them downstream.